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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979711">Got to face the facts, lad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadma32/pseuds/Kadma32'>Kadma32</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Missing Scenes [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>God's Own Country (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Repressed, I just added my descriptions and interpretations, M/M, Scene from the movie, Swearing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 14:01:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,335</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979711</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadma32/pseuds/Kadma32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Deirdre tells him that his father is not going to get any better, Johnny struggles with his own feelings about the farm, his life and Gheorghe. </p><p>And he goes about it all the wrong way. </p><p>My own interpretation of the scene in the pub.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gheorghe Ionescu/Johnny Saxby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Missing Scenes [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2205102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. No way out</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please note English is not my first language and this work is unbetaed. </p><p>Also, please note that this work is full of Johnny's anxiety ridden thoughts, so please take care if that is a trigger for you. </p><p>This is just my interpretation of that scene in the pub, where I think both our boys didn't really have a good, constructive dialogue (personally, I feel that Gheorghe could have cut Johnny some slack, but I also understand where he was coming from)</p><p>I might also make a version of this scene from Gheorghe's point of view. </p><p>Do let me know what you think :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>‘Got to face the facts, lad’ </p><p>That sentence, that damn little sentence in his nan’s matter of fact tone was on a loop in his brain. Over and over again like a hammer. </p><p> </p><p>And was driving him insane. </p><p>Now there was officially no way out. </p><p>His dad was never going to be the same. </p><p>All the weight of the farm and of both his father and his nan was on his shoulders. How was he going to work this out?</p><p>No way out. No way out. No way out. </p><p>The feeling of sinking deeper and deeper was shaking him. </p><p>The water was at his throat. </p><p>He couldn’t breathe.</p><p> </p><p>God. Fuck. </p><p> </p><p>Pub.</p><p> </p><p>The thought appeared like a lightning strike in his mind. He needed something to anaesthetise that pain, make it mute for a moment so that, maybe, he could find a way to cope.<br/>
And he could always count on the pub, where there was no judgement as long as he paid. </p><p>He hadn’t been in a while now, he thought. </p><p>Because he hadn’t needed it, funny that. </p><p>He smiled sourly to himself as he walked to where he knew Gheorghe was working.</p><p>He hadn’t needed it because Gheorghe was there. But that illusion of perfection, those moments in the caravan and even at the little secret lake, hadn’t lasted long. </p><p>Life had given him a little reprieve for a few days. </p><p>And now he was slapping him back in the face. </p><p> </p><p>Got to face the facts, lad. </p><p>No way out. </p><p> </p><p>He needed alcohol. And a lot of it. </p><p>He didn’t stop to think that, even though he knew those feelings like the back of his hand, there was one, small, insignificant change really. </p><p>He didn’t want to be alone as he drowned his pain. </p><p>Gheorghe was, as usual, working hard. For a moment, Johnny stood outside, watching him. </p><p>His father would have wanted a son like him, he thought. </p><p>And he had him instead, an idiot of the brink of desperation. </p><p>He hesitated. He didn’t want Gheorghe to judge him. </p><p>But Gheorghe surely had already judged him and, still, thought that it was worth his time and effort. </p><p>What would happen now, when he was about to see him at his worst?</p><p>Would he come? </p><p>Maybe there were other ways to deal with the water at his throat. Maybe he could just admit his weakness. Admit his fears.</p><p> </p><p>No. </p><p> </p><p>He will manage. He just needed to mute the pain for a moment. </p><p>He would manage. </p><p> </p><p>‘I’m off to t’pub. You coming?’ he heard himself barking. </p><p> </p><p>Got to face the facts, lad. </p><p>No way out. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t stay to look at Gheorghe’s surprised expression. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want Gheorghe to say anything. </p><p>He just didn’t want to be alone.</p><p> </p><p>Gheorghe did come with him, a solid presence. They didn’t say a word to each other on the way, or as Johnny ordered two pints. </p><p>They didn’t say a word as Johnny downed his drink fairly quickly, the welcomed warm spreading in his body. Not quite there, yet, he could still hear his nan’s voice in his head.</p><p>The picture of his father in the hospital was as clear as day in his mind.</p><p>But the beer grounded him a little, enough to look at Gheorghe. </p><p>Gheorghe was keeping his head down, his eyes fixed on the bottom on the pint. </p><p>He looked, well, small. Uneasy in his surroundings. His dark eyes seemed veiled. </p><p>Why? It didn’t make any sense. The pub was quiet still, the atmosphere relaxed and dark. </p><p>Then he lifted his eyes up only to see the couple on the other side, the landlady, pretending to dry a glass as she kept on looking at the two of them with, what was it? Disgust? Was he seeing it right? </p><p>And the man, the lady’s partner, was just unashamedly staring at Gheorghe. </p><p>What the hell?</p><p>He knew them and they knew him, he had even had a couple of games of darts with the guy. But he had never seen them like that, their bodies tense and not in a good way. </p><p>He didn’t know, understand, and to a certain extent care about what was happening right in front of him. If they had some kind of fucking issue, they could very well spit it out. He had other problems to deal with. </p><p> But maybe, a little small talk could help distract both of them.</p><p>The alcohol was definitely having some effect if he was even considering small talks.</p><p>Then he had an idea. They had shared so much already and yet, somehow, they had jumped to soul breaking sex before Johnny even knew much about Gheorghe’s past. </p><p>Fidgeting with his hands, he asked:</p><p>‘Did you come here on your own then, to England?’</p><p>‘Yeah’ Gheorghe replied. Johnny turned to look at him for just a moment, nodding along for some reason. </p><p>Somehow though, he liked the idea that Gheorghe had been alone.</p><p>This fucking country was for loners. </p><p>And Yorkshire was the worst of the worst of the worst. </p><p>But then, Gheorghe added:</p><p>‘There was someone once, but…’</p><p>‘Right’ he managed to say, as he looked away from him at that sudden revelation. </p><p>Funny. He had never thought that Gheorghe had a life away from the farm, which obviously he had. A rational part of him must have known he had a family of origin somewhere, even if the only thing he had really heard of them was that his mother was a teacher. And now it seemed that there had also been someone, someone important enough to be mentioned. A crush. Or maybe more than a crush, that had left Gheorghe wounded enough to still remember that.</p><p>Gheorghe had a past somewhere far, far away of which Johnny was never going to be a part of. </p><p>I want to know about that past. How has it been like? He thought. </p><p>Then, a much nastier thought flashed in his mind, tinted by such strong jealousy that he could barely breathe. </p><p> Gheorghe had a way out if he ever wanted to take it. </p><p>He could go away, free as a bird with the full knowledge that, one free of Johnny’s darkness, anybody else would still have him because how could you send this golden boy, gentleness and sorrowful eyes, away?</p><p>‘Will you go back?’ he managed to say, even though his whole body was screaming at him to take a little mercy on his own, tired bones and not ask that question. </p><p> </p><p>He wasn’t sure he could cope with the answer. </p><p> </p><p>But the answer was not what he was expecting. </p><p>‘My country is dead’ </p><p>Johnny then looked at Gheorghe, to try to understand what that even meant. The guy hadn’t even drunk that much, so he was definitely as serious as his voice had sounded like. </p><p>‘You can’t throw a rock in most towns without hitting an old lady crying for her children who have gone’.</p><p>It didn’t make sense. Why would the old ladies cry? Shouldn’t they be happy that their kids were away and were sending all their economic benefits back to them? </p><p> </p><p>Got to face the facts, lad. His mind went back to his nan as he thought about the old ladies of the world and their pains.</p><p> </p><p>Too much, he thought. He didn’t have the strength to talk about such heavy stuff or to face the very subtly-there anger that was clearly bubbling right underneath Gheorghe’s skin. </p><p>There were other things in his mind. </p><p>And maybe, since Gheorghe just said he was not going back home, this could be the right moment to tell him what he had been toying with ever since, well, that night in the caravan. </p><p>‘I was thinking’ he started, avoiding Gheorghe’s eyes. </p><p>But he could feel the heat of Gheorghe’s gaze on his skin, studying him, just like he had been watching him up in the hills. </p><p>God, this was stupid. </p><p>‘I am not sure what’s gonna happen now with our dad, the way he is, but…how would it be if you stayed on, like?’</p><p>‘I have told you, I can stay’ Gheorghe replied, clearly oblivious to Johnny’s deeper meaning. </p><p> </p><p>God, you have understood me so well without any words, why are you making me say this?</p><p>Throw me a lifeline, please. </p><p>Help me.</p><p> </p><p>‘Yeah, I guess I just...mean, for longer’ he pushed out. </p><p>He risked a gaze back at Gheorghe, in time to see his face relaxing and a gentle, little smile appearing on his lips. </p><p>‘It’d be sweet, right?’ Johnny heard himself add, emboldened by that reaction. </p><p>Right there and then, he was certain that if Gheorghe could stay, he could do it. That pain could go away, and he could face the farm without all the dread he felt every morning after waking up. </p><p> </p><p>Please stay with me. </p><p> </p><p>‘And how would we work on the farm?’ Gheorghe then replied. </p><p>The same, matter of fact tone his nan had used. </p><p> </p><p>Got to face the facts, lad. </p><p>No way out. </p><p> </p><p>‘How do you mean?’ Johnny replied, frowning as his heart started to beat faster again. He wanted to scream. </p><p> </p><p>The water level was rising again, right up his throat once more. </p><p>Please have mercy on me. </p><p> </p><p>‘Well, it can’t go on as it has. You must see that, no?’</p><p>‘What’s the farm got to do with you?’ he said, trying to hide the levels of anger rising in his tone of voice, and failing spectacularly. </p><p>Why did the fucking farm have to envelop eveything? Why did it have to have Gheorghe too?</p><p>‘If I stayed, a lot. I have been through this before. On my farm. I can’t go through that again. It will not survive, believe me’ </p><p>There it was again. That stupid past. </p><p>If he hadn’t been an emotionally stunted Yorkshireman, he would have shouted out that if that past had been so important to him, he could just go back there, to the crying old ladies and his stupid, dead country. </p><p>Or to wherever his first place in England was. </p><p>Or fuck off to Scotland, you already have a job there, anyway, right? Good luck, I can barely understand the Scots, you as a fucking foreigner have no chance. </p><p>His muscles tensed. He could really be a nasty piece of shite when he wanted to, even just in his thoughts. </p><p>‘Have you talked to Martin and Deirdre?’ he heard Gheorghe saying, insisting. </p><p>‘They will be fine’ Johnny said. </p><p>‘Will they?’</p><p>‘Yeah’ </p><p> </p><p>Yes, because they are Yorkshire folks, they will manage. We always do. With or without you. </p><p>You and your past. </p><p>We did it before, we can do it again. Stroke or no stroke. </p><p> </p><p>‘And how will you be?’</p><p>That made him stop for a moment. </p><p>When was the last time someone had actually cared how he was or was going to be? </p><p>‘How do you mean?’ he asked, trying to hide how flattered he felt. </p><p>‘You. Us’ </p><p> </p><p>And just like that, the lovely feeling was gone. </p><p> </p><p>‘It’s not like I am asking you to get wed or anything’ </p><p> </p><p>More responsibilities. There pressure on his chest mounted. </p><p>That night on the hills it hadn’t felt so terrifying. </p><p>That night on the hills the water hadn’t made him choke. </p><p> </p><p>‘No, but you’re asking me to stay here with you’ Gheorghe continued, the persistent son of bitch. </p><p> </p><p>Leave me alone, he thought. </p><p>If this is so hard for you, leave me alone. </p><p> </p><p>‘Do you understand me?’ </p><p>He heard from his tone that Gheorghe was starting to get fed up with him. </p><p>Leave me alone then. Everybody gets fed up with me sooner or later. You might as well finally open your eyes and leave.</p><p>‘Alright. I’ve heard you’ </p><p> </p><p>Enough. Gheorghe was just like his nan. </p><p>And, just like with his nan, alcohol was the answer. </p><p> </p><p>‘We’ll have two more of these when you are ready. And a couple of Sambuca shots’ he ordered, looking stubbornly away from Gheorghe, because he just knew what he was going to see in those eyes. </p><p>Sadness and disappointment. Just like with his nan. </p><p>‘I think I’ve had enough’ he heard Gheorghe say. </p><p>And Johnny knew he wasn’t just talking about the drinks. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck you, Gheorghe, fuck you. </p><p> </p><p>And then he saw them, Robyn and her friends. And the blond, young man immediately attracted his attention. </p><p>He was beautiful. Blond, shaven, young and carefree. </p><p>And Johnny knew that he had noticed him too. Maybe nudged by Robyn, maybe not, but, at that point, he didn’t care. </p><p>‘Want another?’ he asked Gheorghe, giving him one last chance. </p><p>‘I haven’t finished that one yet’ </p><p>‘Well, sup up then’ Johnny replied, pushing him away. </p><p>He could feel Gheorghe’s eyes on him as he walked to the counter. And as he moved towards the toilet. </p><p> </p><p>Could he tell what he was about to do? </p><p>Could he tell that he wanted to hurt him? To hurt his father, his nan….</p><p>But most of all himself. </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t take long for the lad to enter the room. For them both to look at each other, assessing the quality of the products on offer and, without a word, to enter in a cubicle and close the door behind them. </p><p>Johnny’s mind went completely blank, letting his body take over. </p><p>And, as he pushed in that warm, faceless body, he felt the tension disappear. </p><p>And the water levels recede. </p><p> </p><p>They didn’t say a word to each other either during or after. </p><p>The faceless body left first. </p><p>That was how Johnny liked it after all. No fucking words. </p><p> </p><p>He recomposed himself and left the bathroom in a bit of a daze, but still awake enough to notice that Gheorghe wasn’t there anymore. He looked around himself and no, there was no trace of him.</p><p>‘That dirty Gypo’ he heard the landlady’s partner laugh out loud, with a couple of his mates that had just joined him. </p><p>What had happened while he was gone? </p><p>For a moment, he even contemplated asking the bloody woman, but then thought better of it, remembering the looks on their faces as they were drinking only a little while earlier. </p><p>Without a word, he left. </p><p> </p><p>The water level was rising again. </p><p>He drove in the darkness of the night.<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>‘Where the fuck are you?’ he muttered under his breath.<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>And then, he finally saw him. Gheorghe was marching away in the darkness, his heavy bag on his shoulders.<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Shit.<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Shit. Shit. Shit.</p><p> </p><p>What had he done?<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>He rushed out of the car and shouted:<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>‘What are you doing?’<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>‘Fuck you’ Gheorghe growled before pushing him against the car, fist raised.</p><p> </p><p>Do it. Punch me. </p><p> </p><p>Everything was still for a moment. </p><p>Then Gheorghe swore in Romanian and left. </p><p> </p><p>Too pure to get your hands dirty, aren’t you Gheorghe?</p><p> </p><p>Johnny stood back up again. Stunted. </p><p> </p><p>He watched Gheorghe walk away.</p><p>What had he done?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Once again, he cared too much</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gheoghe's perspective during the pub scene.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is heavily influenced by a sentence that Gheorghe says during the reunion in Scotland: “You shouldn’t have come, I am not the answer”. </p><p>And whilst I was very proud of Johnny when he replied that he was aware of that, because a relationship shouldn’t be the end all, I thought that perhaps Gheorghe, in the past, had convinced himself that Johnny hadn’t actually come to care for him as a person, but only because of the “idea” of Gheorghe,  an idealised person that could break the bleakness of his life, instead of Gheorghe for who he is. </p><p>We all know that Gheorghe was,ultimately, wrong. </p><p>Also note that I have played a little bit around Gheorghe’s past, as he doesn’t really reveal much about himself in the movie.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He knew John was there, looking at him as he worked. </p><p>He was just looking, stalling at the entrance of the stable. </p><p>That indecision was not a good sign. </p><p>Alarm bells started to ring as he continued on his task, giving John time to say whatever he wanted to say.</p><p>‘I’m off to t’pub. You coming?’ John barked, before rushing away.</p><p>He didn’t like the sound of John’s voice. It rang aggressive, bringing Gheorghe’s mind straight back to his first night on the farm, to the beginning of Johnny’s racist taunts and the manic slamming of the caravan’s door.</p><p>Also, he didn’t want to go to the pub. </p><p>He had been to English pubs before. His skin, as he put his tools away, started to itch at the memory of his last time in a pub, when, the moment he had stepped in, all eyes had been on him, in that very English way when you can’t really catch them in the act, but you know they are looking at you. </p><p>And they are judging you. </p><p>That time, Gheorghe had kept silent for a while, not wanting people to hear him talk and quickly pick up on his accent. They had all known that he was the odd one out, he didn’t need to remind them of his foreignness by letting them hear his accent. </p><p>But, that time at least, after a while the noise and the level of alcohol in people’s blood vessels had led him to relax a little. </p><p>Was it going to happen at the village’s pub? John’s village was a smaller community than where he was before.</p><p>And smaller communities could mean bigger trouble for someone like him, one that was destined to never really fit.</p><p>But John couldn’t be left to go alone. Ever since what happened with Martin, with the exception of that brief period when they were alone in the house, he had been much more...standoffish? Was that the word? He made a mental memo to check the dictionary again, just to be sure. </p><p>Words aside, he had been worried about him for a while now. </p><p>And he hated it. </p><p>Deep down, he knew that this was a problem. That worrying about that bundle of nerves and anger that was Johnny was not going to end well for either of them.</p><p>Gheorghe wasn’t entirely sure he was strong enough to deal with wounds that a fallout of that kind could bring. </p><p>But he wanted to worry. </p><p>Because he had come to care for John. </p><p>Too deeply in fact. </p><p>As they walked to the pub, a soft, pleasantly warm feeling spread in his chest at the memories of the night they shared in the caravan. </p><p>That time, John had shown him a soft side of himself that Gheorghe had only had glimpses of till then. </p><p>And he wanted to know that soft side more. </p><p>He was brought back down to more immediate issues when they finally reached the pub’s door, and Johnny, like a bull charging their matador, barged in without a second thought. </p><p>Come on, it will be fine, Gheorghe told himself, forcing himself to enter the building. </p><p>And there it was, the familiar itch. To the untrained eye, he had just entered an unassuming pub, very similar to a bunch of others across the country. It was still early so there were not too many customers yet, but he knew that a few of them were looking at him. They all knew by then of the Romanian immigrant staying with the Saxbys. Some of them might have even known that he had gone with John to visit Martin, in a very private, familiar way, not really what a normal, seasonal worker should have done. </p><p>It’s ok, he told himself. Relax. You have as much right as anybody else to be here.</p><p>He followed John to the counter, where he ordered two pints. </p><p>And there, just as the drinks were put in front of them, he saw them: a woman, presumably the landlady of the pub, was pretending to dry and dry again a glass while she stared at him with almost the same intensity as the man sitting opposite John and himself. </p><p>It happened before, nothing new under the sun. </p><p>And yet, when he saw that John saw them too, something new happened. </p><p>A wave of shame washed over him, making him feel, for the first time in a long time, incredibly small. </p><p>Look at me and my fragility.</p><p>I will never be what these people expect me to be. </p><p>He could avoid talking to not raise suspicions. He could avoid going into place to try and not hurt other people’s sensibilities. </p><p>But he could not change where he was from. </p><p>John was a clever man and Gheorghe was sure that, even though he might have never been exposed to more or less open, xenophobic hostility, he was going to recognise it. He was going to recognise that the other people in the community where he had lived his whole life thought that the person he cared about was not one of them. </p><p>Care. He thought that John was starting to care for him. </p><p>But did he care for him as Gheorghe, or did he care for him because he was a change from the life he had had before? The life he hated.</p><p>Did he care for the idea of Gheorghe or for Gheorghe as himself?</p><p>To his surprise, John, after a few moments of just looking at him and fidgeting with his hands, tried to make conversation.<br/>
A conversation that had nothing to do with what was happening right in front of his nose. </p><p>‘Did you come here on your own then, to England?’</p><p>‘Yeah’ Gheorghe replied, surprised at the question, but talking to Johnny ground him a little. </p><p>Even though he was fully aware that it could, potentially, just make things worse with the guy on the other side. </p><p>But it was nice to hear John ask about his past. </p><p>‘There was someone once, but…’ he added, before stopping himself. He would have not normally shared something like that, it was in the past and it was not really that important anymore. </p><p>But he wanted John to know about him. </p><p>And he wanted to know more about John. </p><p>‘Right’ John replied, a strange, distant look on his face. </p><p>‘Will you go back?’ he asked, surprising Gheorghe with the sudden amount of questions from someone not really that talkative. But he guessed that, perhaps, it made sense after what had been shared between them.</p><p>But this was a problem.</p><p>How could he explain to someone like John how it feels like to have your back against the wall, with fleeing the only option available? How it feels to hear your mum crying in the other room because her salary couldn’t stretch just that little bit more to feed everybody?</p><p>He decided that brutal honesty, especially with someone like John, was the best course of action. </p><p>‘My country is dead’ </p><p>‘You can’t throw a rock in most towns without hitting an old lady crying for her children who have gone’ </p><p>Fight me, he thought for a moment. </p><p>Wait, he thought immediately after. This is just your immediate reaction, a flight or fight response developed after years of experience with this shit. </p><p>John was not the problem. </p><p>People like the man opposite him were. </p><p>And the guy was still staring at him. </p><p>He studied John’s face, watching him mulling over something, before surprising him once again by saying:</p><p>‘I was thinking’</p><p>Pause. </p><p>Gheorghe felt a surge of that sweet feeling at the sight of him. Words and conversation were really not John’s forte. </p><p>‘I am not sure what’s gonna happen now with our dad, the way he is, but…how would it be if you stayed on, like?’</p><p>‘I have told you, I can stay’ Gheorghe said, a little confused. </p><p>He was a practical man at heart. Arrangements had already been made and he had postponed his start date on the Scottish farm by a few weeks. </p><p>‘Yeah, I guess I just...mean, for longer. It’d be sweet, right?’</p><p>Gheorghe felt once again that sweet feeling surge in his chest. </p><p> </p><p>Perhaps, John had come to care for him too after all. </p><p>And he was not going to lie, that idea of him staying for “longer” on the farm was exhilarating. </p><p>In his heart of heart, in the dead of night, he had lingered on that remote, practically impossible scenario. </p><p>But it had helped him to fall asleep, imagining himself on top on that mountain, looking at the vastness of Yorkshire with John by his side. </p><p>A place of loneliness. </p><p> </p><p>A place to be free. </p><p>But, beside the dream, beside the love and care, Gheorghe was a practical man. </p><p>You don’t make business or run a farm with good intentions and good feelings. </p><p>‘And how would we work on the farm?’ </p><p>God, he had so many ideas, all the lessons he had learnt from his family’s farm debacle could lead to John’s farm safety. </p><p>John just needed to trust him. </p><p>‘How do you mean?’ John replied, his face going serious. </p><p>For as much as John hated the idea, he had grown up on a farm. He was a farmer at heart. He had to be aware of the situation, surely, no?</p><p>‘Well, it can’t go on as it has. You must see that, no?’</p><p>‘What’s the farm got to do with you?’ John spit out. </p><p>Ah, see, maybe you were right, he thought. John loves the idea of you as the way out, not you for you. He is keeping you and the farm separate.</p><p>‘If I stayed, a lot’ Gheorghe continued, trying to keep his mind on the practicality. </p><p>John was young, Gheorghe got that. And he struggled with responsibility and the weight of them. Fine. </p><p> </p><p>But really, how could he not see the link between the two things?</p><p>Mayday, Mayday. </p><p>This was a problem. </p><p>Protect yourself, you idiot. Or you will be burnt again. </p><p> ‘I have been through this before. On my farm. I can’t go through that again. It will not survive, believe me’ </p><p>No answer. John was looking away. </p><p>God, please, trust me on this. </p><p>‘Have you talked to Martin and Deirdre?’ Gheorghe insisted against his better judgement. </p><p>He knew John reacted badly to responsibility. He should have given him a little time. </p><p>But he had to know.Now.</p><p>And Gheorghe didn’t know exactly how much time the farm, or them, had. </p><p>‘They will be fine’ John replied</p><p>‘Will they?’ Gheorghe pressed on. </p><p>Now he was starting to feel a little angry himself. He wanted to grab John by the shoulders and shake him out of that feeling, out of that apathy.</p><p>Please listen to me. </p><p>‘Yeah’</p><p>Then Gheorghe had an idea. Perhaps, if he couldn’t shake him when asking about the practicality of the farm because of John’s immediate, repulsed reaction, perhaps he could use, well, whatever their relationship was. </p><p>‘And how will you be?’</p><p>‘How do you mean?’</p><p>‘You. Us’ </p><p>‘It’s not like I am asking you to get wed or anything’ </p><p>‘No, but you’re asking me to stay here with you’ </p><p>God. What was going on with him? How could he be so stubborn in keeping his eyes shut? How deep in the sand had he trust his head?</p><p> </p><p>Or maybe that is how it would normally go. Maybe a young person doesn’t have to normally deal with all of this weight. </p><p>He couldn’t expect everybody to rise to the challenges of life as much as he had done.</p><p>John didn’t answer. </p><p>‘Do you understand me?’ </p><p>Please, please listen to me. </p><p> </p><p>‘Alright. I’ve heard you’ </p><p>No, you haven’t, Gheorghe thought. </p><p> </p><p>And, even though the pub was now much busier, even though there was a man he cared for next to him and another staring at them from across the counter, he felt incredibly alone. </p><p>Like he had always been. </p><p> </p><p>‘We’ll have two more of these when you are ready. And a couple of Sambuca shots’ he heard John saying.</p><p>More alcohol. More escaping of problems that were becoming more and more pressing. </p><p>That was not him and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be dragged down that rabbit hole. </p><p>And yet, seeing John like that, was making something in his chest contract. </p><p>‘I think I’ve had enough’ </p><p> </p><p>They didn’t talk to each other for a while. </p><p> </p><p>But he did see John looking towards a group of young people chatting and laughing on the other side of the pub. </p><p>Gheorghe got it. It wasn’t fair that some people could just have fun while others were dying inside. That some people’s problems could be considered miniscule from someone like John’s perspective. </p><p>But you don’t get to choose your lot in life. You just need to make most of what life drops on you and find moments of peace when you can grab them.</p><p>Gheorghe had learnt that a long time ago. When was John going to catch up?</p><p>‘Want another?’ John asked him.</p><p>Maybe, in his mind, alcohol could also act as a way to connect. </p><p>Not in Gheorghe’s mind. </p><p>‘I haven’t finished that one yet’ </p><p>‘Well, sup up then’ </p><p>What did that even mean? </p><p>Not that he had much time to think about anything, as he watched Johnny keeping on looking, attentively, at the young people on the other side of the pub, a young girl and a few, carefree boys. </p><p>Then John moved towards the bathroom. </p><p>Fair enough. </p><p>Alone again, Gheorghe sat down. </p><p>Alone he was a much better target, but his mind was too fogged up by his chat with John to even notice how the hostile man had moved from across the counter to the seat next to him. </p><p>On another occasion, Gheorghe would have thought him a coward, taking advantage of his being alone. </p><p>Funny how the man had thought to wait till his British shield had gone away before attacking him. </p><p> </p><p>The first few drops of beer thrown in his face were cold against his skin. </p><p>Cold like the shivers running down his spine. </p><p>Be calm. The best way to calm a beast to be calm. </p><p> </p><p>But the drops continued to fall. </p><p> </p><p>How long can one stand against the storm?</p><p>And the anger, for as much as he tried to keep it in check, was boiling under the disappointments of the day. </p><p>‘Please don’t do that’ he hissed, even though he knew full well that it was only going to make it worse. </p><p>But you can stump down on your feelings only to a certain limit. </p><p>‘Pleez don do zat’</p><p>His body moved before he fully realised what was going on, pinning that xenophobic prick on the stick counter. </p><p>Horror took hold of his body. </p><p>He knew that violence is never the answer. </p><p>‘Hey, get the fuck out of my pub, you dirty little bastard. Or am I calling t’ pigs?’ the woman shouted, but he was only distantly aware of her. </p><p>What was he turning into?</p><p>John. He needed to find John and run away from there. </p><p>Then he was going to apologise to him. He was going to tell him more about what it means to be a minority and that he was sorry, but the pub was off limits to him. </p><p>He rushed to the bathroom. </p><p>It was empty. </p><p>No, wait. </p><p>His eyes widened and his stomach turned around in a cold knot as he heard the door of one of the cubicles rattled at regular intervals. </p><p>His breath got caught in his throat when he saw the two sets of feet, pointing against one another. </p><p>And John’s shoes. </p><p>He had cared only about the idea of Gheorghe. </p><p>And when that idea turned from a way out to someone pushing him against the wall of responsibility, all that care had gone out of the window. </p><p>Once again, Gheorghe had cared too much. </p><p>And, once again, he was standing all alone. </p><p>And, all alone, he was going to leave his mess behind. </p><p> </p><p>When the darkness surrounding him was illuminated by two strong lights, Gheorghe thought it was just another car passing by. It didn’t happen often, those roads were quiet beyond all measure, but it could happen. </p><p>What hadn’t happened before was that the car stopped. </p><p>And John rushed out of it. </p><p>‘Hey, what are you doing?’</p><p>What was he doing? What was HE doing? </p><p>‘Fuck you’  </p><p>He wasn’t himself anymore. </p><p>And, for once, he didn’t care. </p><p>He pushed John against the car and lifted his fist. </p><p>He wanted to hit him, he wanted to cause him as much physical pain as the emotional one John had caused to him. </p><p>John was looking at him. Scared, lonely, and waiting for the punch. </p><p>John was a bundle of nerve and anger. But also of deep, deep loneliness.</p><p>Gheorghe lowered his punch, not hitting the face he had come to care for. </p><p>Gheorghe swore in Romanian, because it felt good to remind himself of who he was. </p><p>That he should not be ashamed of that. </p><p>And he walked away.</p><p>Once again, he cared too much.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Apologies if this chapter is not as good as Johnny’s perspective, I guess the movie provides so much more details for Johnny’s emotional state that it is a little easier to interpret. Still, I hope you have enjoyed this rendition, do let me know if you have any feedback :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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